


Scars on your body (leave scars on your soul)

by KawaiiKitsuneGirl



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cinnamon Roll, Fantastic Beasts, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sad, Who even knows, angst for the sake of it, doogle, enjoy, h/c, newt scamander - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KawaiiKitsuneGirl/pseuds/KawaiiKitsuneGirl
Summary: Immediately, something dark and black swirls out; a mass of fog that coats the room in shadow and suffocates him until he can hardly breath. It looks like an Obscuri- but it can’t be. They’re so rare, and why has he seen so many of them lately?“Ob-“ he tries to choke out, but his voice betrays him and sticks solidly to his throat. Instead, the darkness just approaches him and covers his eyes until he can’t see either.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just saw fantastic beasts today, and immediately had to write a fic for my lil cinnamon roll.  
> I don't know where it fits- imagine it in yourself- but hope everyone enjoys! Comments are much appreciated, and if anyone has something about Newt they'd like me to write, I'm taking suggestions :)

“His mother beats him,” Tina admits bluntly, looking away from Newt as she says it and he swallows harshly, a thousand nails dragging themselves down his throat.

“-“ he opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. 

Tina doesn’t realise, her curly brown head looking away from him in fear of his reaction, and he can’t say anything so the conversation goes nowhere.

She moves away, and he puts the emotions away for later.

________________________________________

“I’m just checking on the animals,” he tells Jacob. “I’ll be out again in a few hours, let me know if anything comes up,” he smiles warmly, knowing that the situation was only going to get worse but also knowing that his animals would always be top priority.

“Okay,” Jacob replies distractedly, eyes glued to the gap in the doors where he’s fairly certain Queenie is sitting. Honestly, the pair were a little sickening.

“Right then,” he smiles, and shuts the lid on himself.

Newt climbs down the ladder with an ease born of familiarity, and immediately knows that there’s something wrong.

There’s a sense that he has around his creatures that seems to be alerting him, but Pickett is also standing up straight and worried, and the Bowtruckle has some of the best   
instincts he knows.

“Pickett? What is it?” he asks urgently, and the small creature motions violently to the room on the left, so Newt heads into the bare room with only a small amount of confusion   
(hesitation isn’t an issue; it might be a threat to his animals).

Inside the cupboard shakes.

Pickett twitters at him quickly, wanting to know what’s in it, but Newt has no answers to give him. 

“I don’t know, give me a minute,” he responds hurriedly, facing the cupboard again and how did a creature get into his case that he doesn’t know about? It’s unlikely to be truly   
dangerous, since none of the other animals have reacted to it, and they always protect him

He edges forward again, reaching out for the lock on the door, and gently allows it to click open.

Immediately, something dark and black swirls out; a mass of fog that coats the room in shadow and suffocates him until he can hardly breath. It looks like an Obscuri- but it can’t   
be. They’re so rare, and why has he seen so many of them lately?

“Ob-“ he tries to choke out, but his voice betrays him and sticks solidly to his throat. Instead, the darkness just approaches him and covers his eyes until he can’t see either.

“Freak,” he hears ringing through his ears and freezes on the spot.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he chants in his mind, unable to get the words out, and presses his hands to his ears shakily.

“You think that’s going to save you?” the voice continue, humour curling at the edges of its tone until Newt feels like he might be sick. He doesn’t respond. His knees buckle   
though, and send him tumbling down to the floor, where they collide harshly but he can’t even feel the pain.

“You’re so dumb, freak,” it continues and why won’t it stop. “No wonder nobody loves you, no wonder nobody cares for the unwanted child- you know that you’re broken,” 

“I’m not,” he mutters, finding the energy to stand up again. “I- I’m not broken,” he mumbles uselessly and knows that he can’t do anything to save himself.

“Oh, really?” it sneers, but the darkness suddenly swirls away from him. It leaves an emptiness behind, a void that Newt can’t fill and somehow knows is going to be worse (it was   
the calm before the storm; he knows how nature works).

“You’re just a weak imitation of me,” a familiar voice starts in on him and this time he doesn’t even have the courage to block his ears with his numb hands.

“You never were much good,” he tells Newt, and all Newt can do is stare up at him through watering blue eyes that only ever saw the awe in his big brother. They never   
understood how someone he loved so much could be so cruel.

“Theo, I-“ 

“Don’t apologise! Weakling. Just- just get out of my sight, okay? Nobody wants you here. You might as well just kill yourself,” Theo commands, and Newt scuttles back and out of   
the room.

He’s not wanted. Well, that’s nothing new. He’s a failure. 

He thinks he’s safe, but the creature follows him, its shape blurry and not quite solid, but still physical enough to shift into a form that he definitely recognises.

“W-what?” Newt asks himself in a whisper, tears beginning to fall slowly down his cheeks now. “Mum?” 

“I’m not your mother,” the creature snaps, even as his mother’s dark hair and short figure stand in front of him like a bad memory that won’t let him go.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

“No, you aren’t real. You’re- you’re just a boggart!” he realises finally, digging frantically into his pocket with hands that tremble violently and don’t move the way he wants them   
to.

“So? What can something as useless as you do anyway?” his mother sneers, stepping closer threateningly and delicately pulling Pickett off of his collar, pulling the bowtruckle   
away from the frozen Newt. 

“No! You leave him alone!”

“Ridikulus!” he manages to sob out, the spell not working properly (or indeed at all), so he resorts to using non verbal spells that just blast energy at the creature, driving it   
backwards into the cupboard it came from and locking it there tightly.

He’ll deal with it later.

In the meantime, he collapses against the wall of his cabin, not quite able to make it outside to find his creatures yet, and sniffles miserably.

Newt can’t stop hearing the voices running through his head (“failure!””weakling!”) and he doesn’t know if they’re from his mind or from the cupboard that’s still just in front of   
him, but either way he can’t stop the sobs from tearing through his body and into the cabin.

Three sharp knocks come from the room above.

Newt freezes in place. 

“They can’t find me here,” he frets frantically, picking up his feet and fleeing out the door, running as far away from the entrance as he can until he finds the very corner of his   
suitcase, squishing his lanky form into the small space and allowing the tears to run freely.

He caresses the thin white lines on his wrists lightly, feeling the raised edges as he sobs loudly, trying to muffle his voice and failing. They sit like accusers on his body,   
whispering words of failure into his mind as Newt tries desperately to squash them flat under his palm.

Newt wonders for a moment if it was worth staying alive for this, for this solitary life that he leads with only his animals for company. Only his animals and the unwilling people   
who he drags along- he never means to hurt anyone- and he always seems to do more harm than good.

No, the only thing really worth staying alive for was to help his creatures, Newt decides, and then is suddenly blinking as the bright light is taken away from him and instead there   
is a small grey creature obstructing his quiet space.

“H- Hey Doogle,” he mutters with a forced smile that barely lifts the corners of his lips, and Doogle gives him a look that says he knows everything. The demiguise pulls on Newt’s   
arm impatiently, dragging him out of the corner with a rough tug, and forcing Newt to emerge into the enclosure of animals.

“Oh, hey guys,” he greets bravely, not ready for the small avalanche of creatures that throw themselves at him in distress

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” he soothes them all, not persuading any one of them as salty tears continue to drip down onto their fur and scales and feathers, the rest of the bowtruckles   
scaling him and nestling in his hair.

“You guys are worth it,” he thinks almost fondly, staring down at all of his animals as the last of his emotions seem to drain out of him and he sits there with them all, numb.

Then one of the smaller ones bites his thumb sharply, and he bites on his lip, not bothering to move the animal.

He half expects to start crying again, but instead the pain washes away all of the feelings and even though he knows it’s bad, even though he know that he needs to do something   
about the drops of blood that fall onto the ground, he doesn’t want to.

Why did he ever give this up, Newt wonders sorrowfully, but his thoughts are interrupted before they go anywhere.

“Tina has news on one of the animals!” he hears echoing around the suitcase, and knows that Jacob has just yelled that around the entire haven. He can’t bring himself to feel   
anything about that though, so instead brushes the creatures off of him and on to the floor, making them scuttle back into their various habitats, all except the bowtruckles that   
refuse to leave him. 

________________________________________

He emerges from the suitcase quickly, shocking Jacob who seemed to be lurking be the edge of the box as if debating whether to come down or not.

Newt shoots the man a quick smile, the lines of it shaky despite his best attempts, to which Jacob responds by pointing at his head.

“What?” he asks lightly, feigning nonchalance, then remembers the bowtruckles that have stayed there to help comfort him, and he shrugs at Jacob, too choked up to say anything   
about it.

The muggle raises an eyebrow at him, but shakes his head with a fond smile, and Newt figures that it’s okay to march straight past the man and out into the room, determined to   
hear what Tina has to say, but he’s forgotten about one thing.

Queenie.

“Oh!” Queenie gasps as soon as he comes near to where she stands, cooking something around the general area of the stove and opens her mouth to say something.

He cuts her off as fast as he can, grabbing her wrist and drags them both out of the room, ignoring Tina’s curious looks and Jacob’s scandalised ones, pulling the woman after   
him until they are both standing privately in his cabin, the one in his suitcase.

“Oh, Newt,” she coos at him softly, staring up with eyes full of understanding, and the man can’t help but bow his head and try not to cry as he hears it.

“Shh, it’s okay now,” Queenie mutters to him gently, pulling his frozen form into her arms and hugging him tightly as he responds to the sympathy 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers quietly, into the soft skin of the witch’s shoulder, and she just pulls him closer.

“Everything will be alright,” she tells him, looking into his eyes maternally and pressing a warm kiss to his cheek. To anyone else, it would probably seem like a romantic action   
but it really isn’t; she’s just the only one who can comfort him and knows what to do.

The tears return again, unwillingly but he doesn’t mind it too much. It feels nice to have somebody who actually cares about him, to not be called a freak, to be looked after as if   
he is an actual person. He doesn’t say as much, but he knows that the woman heard everything he thought as she rocks him lightly.

It’s about five minutes before he calms down enough to remove his head from her shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Newt whispers, wiping at his eyes quickly and smiling at Queenie, a real smile that crinkles the corners of his face and emits warmth into the room.

“It was my pleasure,” she responds simply, answering his unsaid question as well, raising her wand lightly and tapping it ever so gently on his cheeks, drying them and soothing   
them at once until neither of them could tell that Newt had just been crying. She makes sure that his eyes aren’t bloodshot either, cooling the puffy skin and caressing the side of   
his face with a small smile.

“See? Everything is alright,” Queenie promises.

Newt thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can believe her.


End file.
